


A Marxman

by Omenthia_Arc



Series: Guns Blazing [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky knows how to shoot, Bucky loves guns, Crack, Does this already count as a civil war fix-it?, Endgame who?, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Guns, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I also wrote this instead of studying, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Shooting Guns, Shooting Range, Tony knows this, infinity war what?, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:13:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29735085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omenthia_Arc/pseuds/Omenthia_Arc
Summary: What do you call a communist sniper?Bucky has said that he wants a break from all the violence in his life. He wants to reset in peace.Tony respects that, he really does. But he can't help but notice the way Bucky keeps bitching at the movie snipers.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & James "Rhodey" Rhodes, James "Bucky" Barnes & Original Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes & Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Original Character(s), James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Original Character(s)
Series: Guns Blazing [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2185434
Kudos: 30





	A Marxman

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really sorry, but I could not resist that pun.
> 
> I found this fic collecting dust on my harddrive, so I gave it an ending and posted it.  
> Also, I know nothing about guns, so let's just file this whole thing under poetic freedom, okay? Especially because I just realised that I don't think snipers shoot uphill, like, ever, but it's too late now.

Tony had seen the way Bucky eyed one of the sniper rifles – the really old one – with a weird mixture of longing and guilt, but he hadn’t thought anything of it. In all honesty, it wasn’t too far off from the way he had eyed the kitchen knife this morning. In fact, it took an embarrassing long time for Tony to realise what was going on.

Four movies with sniper scenes Bucky huffed and puffed through, complaining about unrealistic shots or ones which were too easy, about wrong math and ridiculous ammunition. It was the last one that finally tipped him off when Bucky complained ‘Why can’t anyone just learn to shoot, nowadays?’

That was when he finally remembered that Bucky had been a sniper long before the Winter Soldier had even been a twinkle in the eye of an evil Nazi scientist. The very next morning, he called Rhodey.

Rhodey, because he had shown him the math Bucky could do in his head, which impressed both of them, and Rhodey, because even though they were different divisions, Bucky had served the United States and Rhodey always respected that. Also Rhodey, because he had connections and friends and he could make the same happen that Tony could have, only Rhodey actually trained soldiers, even if they were from a different branch, so he could make it happen faster.

One week later he loaded Bucky in one of his less flashy cars, which was also one of the most expensive, but painted in a mute silver instead of something bright like the Lamborghini or the Ferrari, and told him he had a surprise for him.

“What kind of surprise?” Bucky sounded instantly suspicious. Tony put one hand to his chest to pretend he was hurt and clocked the look Bucky nervously levelled at the wheel – because he didn’t _throw_ glances, he was too much in control for that – and _ouch,_ that really hurt.

“Don’t worry about it, Buckaroo, you’ll find out soon enough.”

* * *

An hour later – and Bucky was sure any sane person would have taken at least twice that time, not that he was complaining – they held in front of the guarded entrance to a military base. He had no idea what they were doing here, but he was intrigued.  
Tony got them through the gates with an ease that made Bucky think they were expecting them, even though he hadn’t listened to the conversation. Then again, with Tony Stark driving, one could never be too sure.

They parked in front of what looked to be an administrative building and got out. Tony got a long box out from the tiny trunk and made a grand gesture with it that Bucky interpreted as ‘follow me’, simply because he started walking determinately in one direction right after.

Bucky kept a careful eye on his surroundings, but he was surprised how at ease he felt on the complex. He explained it with the fact that in the last decades, there hadn’t been too much change. Even though the uniforms were different, the Drill-Sergeants he could see here and there, yelling at the younger men and women, another change – one he approved of – seemed to be just as evil as the ones they had had in the forties.

Tony slowed down a little when he met a man in uniform, a different one than most people here were wearing, and Bucky recognised James Rhodes – Tony’s friend. Rhodes hugged Tony and then shook Bucky’s hand, his smile not changing one bit. Which was actually a little worrying, considering it was the same one Tony had been wearing this morning when he had made him get in the car without any kind of explanation.

“It’s nice to have you here, Barnes. I hope you are ready, because these guys have been practicing trash talk all morning, and I know your Army, too, but at least I know you. So, I would really appreciate it if you could show them up a little. Alright?”

Bucky felt his brow furrow without his permission. “You know, I’m sure I could give my best if anyone finally told me what the heck I’m doing here.”

Rhodes turned to Tony with the most unimpressed face he had ever seen anyone level at the billionaire. “You haven’t told him. Tony, you promised me he would show them how it’s done if I made this happen, and you didn’t even give him time to prepare? Do you even know when he has done this the last time?”

“When have I done what the last time,” he asked.

At the same time Tony said: “November in 63, I’m pretty sure.”

The date meant nothing to Bucky, but it obviously meant something to the other man. He opened his mouth, took a moment, and closed it again. He repeated the process twice, then dragged his hand down his face with a deep sigh.

“The twenty-second? Really?” Tony just nodded. Rhodes took another moment and then seemed to get a hold of himself.

“Alright,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Just, you know, maybe don’t mention that again?”

Tony scoffed in a way that very clearly said _How stupid do you think I am?_ And Bucky quietly filed the date away to be researched on a different occasion.

In the end, Rhodey also didn’t tell him what he was supposed to do here, but it took only a few hundred more meters and the rounding of one corner for him to understand. They were standing in front of a shooting range. For snipers.

A dangerous excitement swept through his stomach. Before he could look closer at his own feeling, he slowly turned to find the other two men staring at him, Rhodes with careful expectation – of what he wasn’t sure - and Tony with such a level of smug self-satisfaction that it almost dripped out of his ears.

“Explain.”

Tony gladly did. “Listen, I know you said you wanted a break from guns and all that fun stuff, but I have also seen the look you levelled that M1903 Springfield with. And if I’m being honest, I don’t think I will survive watching another action film with you ever again if there are snipers, which cannot be, because we have not watched the third season of shooter, yet. And I really don’t think you even completely know what you’re doing, but you comment on fucking everything and you bitch about it constantly for days after. So, I thought this might be something you would enjoy.”

He took a moment to think about it. Sure, he had said he would take a break from the weapons – but the sniper rifle. Well. That was something he had had before the Winter Soldier. He remembered, in the hazy sort of way he remembered most things, that he had been pretty good. That he had enjoyed it when he hadn’t used it to kill.

But that had been in the forties. He knew the Soldier had used sniper rifles, but that wasn’t the same, that wasn’t something he remembered in any form or capacity.

And by God, he wanted to, but he was a little worried he would embarrass himself, since he knew barely anything about these new rifles and that ridiculous ammunition they always had in the movies.

Which was nice, really, to think he could still worry about embarrassing himself. It made him feel more normal. More human. Which was probably the reason he looked at Tony and said “Yeah, okay” instead of hightailing it out of there. Not three seconds later he followed a bright grinning Tony onto the range.

There were three men and one woman waiting for them. They were grinning almost as wide as Tony was and he couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or a bad one. They sobered a little when Rhodes walked in behind the other two, saluting with straight faces, but the grins returned instantly after Rhodey had saluted back. For a second, one surprising second, it itched him to lift his hand in the same way, but he shut it down. He wasn’t too sure how these guys would take that.

Tony had, in the meantime, made his way over to a table a little in the back and had put the box down. He made no motion to open it and turned back to the group instead.

The soldiers were eyeing the man curiously and Bucky was again reminded that no matter how many people knew of him, and how much they knew _about_ him, he would never be the most interesting guy in the room if Tony Stark was also there. Not even if this room was a sniper range on a military base.

It was the woman who finally made the first move, taking a step forward and introducing herself, first to Tony, then to Bucky. The men followed in her footsteps and when they were done, Tony clapped his hands together. Loudly.

“Alright. I need no introduction and you have obviously met Rhodey over there. This guy here is James Buchanen Barnes. He was the best sniper the Army, maybe the world, had ever seen during the second world war – arguably, he still is. He has never laid hands on one of these beautiful, modern versions of what he used to carry, and I will pay every one of you who can beat him five hundred thousand Dollar.”

* * *

They started – once the soldiers had picked up their jaws from the floor and Bucky had gotten his heart rate back to a normal speed – with giving out a sniper rifle to everyone. Then they had let him look it over before starting. It had felt- weird. And it must have shown on his face, because Tony had come over immediately.

“Hey, you okay? Because if I miscalculated, you don’t have to do this. I just thought you would enjoy this.”

“It’s not that. It’s just- this feels weird.”

“Weird how?” As if it was that easy to explain. There was so much to think of. The rifle felt comfortable in his hands, in a way that shouldn’t have felt natural to anyone, least of all a man like him. It should have felt heavy, weighed down by the promise of violence that every gun was, in his hands. It made him wonder if maybe he had shot with a rifle like this before, after all. With one that was more modern even than the one he would have had in the sixties. If Tony had been mistaken with his guess as to when he had a sniper rifle in hands the last time.

“Or maybe it’s just natural talent.” Bucky looked up. He had no idea how Tony had guessed what was really going on, but his smile was soft and understanding.

“A natural talent to kill?” he sounded sardonic; he knew.

“A natural skill to use a tool.” There was a pause where Tony looked at him almost calculating. “You see the world a lot like I do, you know. At least a lot closer to me than most people. My world is made up of numbers. You give me anything, doesn’t matter what, and if it’s somewhat reasonably constructed, I’ll be able to use it. I’ve seen the notes your drill sergeant made when he put you into sniper training. You always had a way with guns, rifles especially.”

Bucky took a deep breath. He tried to forget the history he had handling guns and look at it again. Slowly, he let his hand caress the rifle.

It was a work of art, that much he was certain of. One that was deadly and deadly precise. He took a breath. This could be fun if he let himself enjoy it. Just a little bit. Just this once. It wasn’t hurting anyone, this time.

Minutes later he was laying on the earth, looking down the scope of the rifle.

This thing was incredible. It was mind blowing how clear he could see. Way farther than he had been able to with the scope of his rifle in the forties.

“Everyone ready?” Tony’s voice over his shoulder barely distracted him. There was too much to look at. All these fancy devices. There was a handheld geometrical device, informing him about windspeeds, and targeting software and more. He almost snorted.  
He had been right after all to complain that no one learned simple shooting nowadays, even if Tony had been right that ridiculous exploding ammunition did not exist.

‘Unless you want it to. I’m sure I could whip something up.’ The genius had promised it like it was the easiest thing in the word, and perhaps for him it was. Bucky still preferred a clean, honest shot, though.

But all these computers. He was curious to see if they would actually improve his track record.

“All right then, open fire. Or whatever else there is you guys say to start this.” Bucky smiled against the cold metal on his cheek. At first, he let the fancy equipment be and took a few shots, to see how the rifle reacted to him. The bullets landed all a little left of his target, so he adjusted.

In the second round, they were a little high, but that was easily rectified. Once he found the middle of the target with the first bullet, every other followed easily. The studs stabilising the rifle sure were a nice addition.

He kept loading and shooting, working his way up the targets that were in his lane, progressively farther away and up the hill. Every new target, it took a few bullets to zero in on the middle, then three shots into the bullseye, before he moved onto the next.

He was aware of the whispers around him, that there were people standing behind him. But in the safety of the range, he had allowed himself to fall into the almost meditative trance that shooting long range sometimes lured him into. Only when he had no bullets left, did he look up.

The others had stopped shooting and had clustered around a metre and a half behind him. Each of them had pressed a pair of military grade binoculars against their faces, staring, presumably, at the targets he had just shot at. Rhodes was among them, but Tony had relaxed into a chair– and where had that even come from – a little further back and was grinning a little like a maniac.

Finally, one of the soldiers, the one that had introduced himself as Ben Daniels, lowered the binoculars to stare incredulously down at Bucky.

“Are you sure you never worked with a modern rifle before? Because these shots were insane!”

“You didn’t even use the equipment!” Sanchez added, still gaping. Bucky shrugged.

“I never did before.”

“You can’t have tested the rifles out like you did right now. Not in the field.”

“I did it in camp. I knew every oddity of the rifles I used then. I calculated it in.”

“In your head?!” He shrugged again. It really wasn’t that hard.

Now Tony inserted himself back into the conversation. “Should we take the money shots, then? How about three rounds?”

“Yeah,” Rhodes added. “And let’s show him how we do precision shots over a few klicks this time, shall we?” the words were reprimanding, and all the soldiers immediately answered with a “Sir, yes, sir!”, but all of them were smiling. Bucky just wondered that apparently, the man had switched sides.

* * *

This time, Bucky took the time to watch what the others were doing. They had paired of, one behind a rifle, one behind a pair of binoculars, sharing information in a practised manner that spoke of hours and hours of training.

Rhodes placed binoculars in his hands and directed him where to look. The little display told him that the target was about 2 klicks away. A considerable distance, but not something that he hadn’t done before. One after the other, they took the shot, switching positions midway. They all got the target, but only one hit the bull’s eye. Certainly, better than most of the guys he had served with would have managed, but not really mind-blowing to him personally.

Then it was his turn.

While he got ready, Daniels came over and lay down next to him. “I’ll spot for you. We want to keep things fair after all.” Bucky didn’t comment on it, but he firmly pushed away the little notebook and pen Daniels had given him.

He had the rifle in hand and had just put the target into the cross hairs, when Daniels begun spouting facts at him, ripping him from his concentration. He could see the target, and the flag right next to it, he didn’t need Daniels to flood his minds with numbers he had never needed before, that only distracted his brain from the numbers it was already running on instinct.

So, of course his first shot went wide. A full- Jesus- a full six centimetres to the left of the target. He was ridiculously glad that they had agreed on three rounds. He would not have stressed about it this much, but there was a lot of money riding on this. It wasn’t even his, and he honestly did not know if that made it better or worse.

Then again, a wry voice in his head said, he hadn’t asked Tony to set out that kind of reward. An even smaller voice tried to dare him to miss on purpose, to test what would happen to the man’s generosity when he lost his good graces. But that was delirious.

For one, it was madness to antagonize the man who paid all your bills and put you up. Plus, Steve had assured him that Tony was quite aware that he was not technically to blame for his parent’s murder and was, furthermore, the most caring person he had ever met. Only an idiot would jeopardize that.

So, he shoved the voices aside and concentrated on shooting. And actually hitting the target, this time.

The second round went much better, mostly because before he shot, he waved Daniels aside. The man raised a brow at him, but easily made room. Again, he snubbed the paper and pen that he still pointedly placed next to him. Instead, this time he did it like he had it the forties.

He knew this rifle. Not as good as he used to know the ones he took into the field, but well enough. He had just tested it out.

This time he didn’t watch the others shoot, but instead used the time to let his mind melt into the scope, to let his fingers weld themselves to the metal. He took deep, clean breaths, calming his pulse.

“Barnes-“ Before Rhodes could even get the next word out, Bucky had already pulled the trigger, right between one heartbeat and the next. Like agreed, he had chosen the second to last target. The bullet hit in one of the inner rings. If it had been a man, he’d been shooting at, it would have been a fatal shot. Now, here, it was a good shot, but it could have been better. He used the scope to quickly check the other’s marks.

It was hard to tell if he’d been better than the others, they were so close; but at least he was reasonably certain that they were not better than him. None of them had hit the bull’s eye, either. They would all have been kill-shots, though.

When he looked up, the people around him were gaping again. He wondered if they had not paid attention earlier, or if they just hadn’t believed him when he had said he could produce this kind of marksmanship again and again if he had learned the rifle enough – even without all the fancy equipment.

Before they could start round three, Tony got out of the chair with a flourish and waved them over in the same way. Bucky was beginning to think that he did everything with a flourish, living his life on the stage of public attention.

Once they’d all gathered around, he opened the box that had been sitting on the table for everyone to stare at since Tony had first put it there. He opened the it, this time without any unnecessary hand gestures, but with no less attention from the people around him.

When the top part fell on the table, Bucky’s breath hitched, only a little. Inside the box lay a rifle. It was not one anything like the ones they had used for the past hour, but an old one. A really old one.

“Now, shall we see if you would have taken down as many Nazis as you have targets?” Tony asked and Bucky was speechless. Because this was the rifle. His rifle.

Carefully, so carefully he took it out of the box. It was heavier than the modern ones, not as sleek, probably not as powerful – most definitely not as powerful – but this one was his. Something from before, something that was just his and not the soldier’s.

“Tony.” He had to search for the right words to express what he was feeling right then, but nothing came, so instead he asked how on earth he had gotten his hands on it. Tony looked at him in that way of his, as if he were unsure if he should tell the truth.

“It’s from the Smithsonian.” He finally said. “Actually, I’m surprised you didn’t see it there. And before you ask how I got them to hand it over, I told them to. A lot of the stuff there belonged to Howard and as much as – well, everything else – he hated the thought of stuff he deemed important landing with any sort of organisation, so he left all of it to me. Which means it is mine to give.”

It took a few seconds for the implication to sink in and then he wanted to protest, he really intended to, but the rifle lay heavy in his hands. Familiar in a way barely anything had felt since God knew how long, so he just nodded and thanked Tony.

* * *

He let the rifle go a little reluctantly, but in the end, he was curious. He had shot with a rifle he wasn’t used to, now he wanted to see how the others would do with one they hadn’t used before.

Because they only had the one rifle, this time they’d have to take turns. Bucky offered to show them how to use it first, but they refused. Maybe it had irked them how easily he had found his own way around the modern one. Or maybe they were just stubborn and feeling a little superior to the old thing.

Watching them lie on the ground and try to figure out how to support the heavy gun was hilarious. He tried really hard to supress his grin, but it slipped past his teeth anyway. They were shifting their weight from one side to the other, trying to lay on their arms and still hold the rifle steady. Finally it was Smith who broke.

“How the hell do you do this if this fucking thing can’t stand on its own?” she sounded more baffled than angry, scowling down at the rifle non the less.

Bucky looked around a little. The easy answer was, he didn’t used to lay flat on the ground. He turned around, still looking for something and there- Tony was already holding a bundle of blankets and a packed army rucksack out to him. He had to look a little quizzical, because the genius shrugged.

“I saw a video, once, of you shooting with this. I figured it’d be hard to do, laying on the ground.”

He took the bundle and the rucksack. Yeah, this would do nicely. He had used similar setups, when there hadn’t been a conveniently sized rock nearby.

“May I?” Smith gave up the rifle easily. All four of them looked on curiously, as he propped up the rucksack, used the blankets to ensure that it wouldn’t turn over under his weight – instead of, as Tony had probably intended, softening the surface. He sat down and leaned against the construction, making sure it would support him. Then he shifted his arms over so that his triceps was resting against the top. After that it was easy to prop his other forearm against it to steady his trigger hand.

This was different from shooting with the other rifles had been. He actually felt the weight of it in his hands. It was harder to hold the rifle in the exact right position as he lined up the shot.

“In theory you could do it laying on the ground, but not when shooting at the targets in the back. They’re to high up for that. When you shoot downhill, though, or can at least lay down at an angle, it works perfectly fine to support yourself on your elbows.”

He could feel their looks on him, but he didn’t take his eyes off the target. This rifle didn’t have the same crosshairs, or the fancy readings. Just two lines, indicating the centre. He took a breath. Counted his heartbeats. Shot.

He missed by a few centimetres. He didn’t know her like he had once. And she had changed. He was fairly certain she had not used to redirect the bullet so much to the upper right.

He reloaded with quick, efficient motions. Back into position. A breath. A heartbeat. The recoil fighting against his grip on her. But he’d hit the bull’s eye, this time. Not dead in the middle, but he’d hit it.

“Holy SHIT!” The exclamation pulled him from the trance, before he could fire the third bullet that was already loaded. He looked up, almost a little dazed. He expected them to stare at him, but all of them still had their binoculars pressed to their eyes, gaping through them like they had just spotted an endangered species. He snorted at the thought. He was the only endangered species around here.

“How the fuck did you do that?” Smith finally looked at him. “That were almost more than three clicks! With an antique like that!”

“It’s not what most people could do with this rifle,” he admitted easily.

“He’s being modest.” He turned to Tony, not quite sure how that had been modest. “He could probably do this all day and the shots wouldn’t get worse. And that not anywhere near what other people would get out of that rifle.” Okay, yeah, he had been modest when the only other option was to outright brag about it.

“Is it the serum?” Well, what was he supposed to say to that?

Apparently, nothing, Tony was already shaking his head.

“His shots barely improved after the serum; he was regularly getting bull’s eyes at 2.5 clicks even before that.” For a moment Bucky really wanted to ask how he knew all these things, but then decided to just keep his mouth shut. He was sure Tony had his ways.

Once they had seen Bucky do it, the others wanted another go. This time, they had it easier, imitating him. It wasn’t so hard to sit against the rucksack, but he could see that all of them were still not balancing their weight exactly right. They were able to keep their hands steady enough, but not without complaining about it.

“The thought of holding it like that for hours on end, _yikes_ ,” was the only comment Sanchez made when it was his turn. Bucky was inclined to agree. That was probably the one thing where the serum _had_ given him an edge. Being able to hold it for hours on end.

On the other hand, though, he had spent most of the war chasing after Steve, running from one position to the next, slinging the rifle over his shoulder and taking it down again. It wasn’t like he had spent hours laying down and holding the rifle up to keep his eye on a situation. Not often, at least.

He tried to nudge them into form a little, but the more grievous problem they were having was, as they were sure to let him know, that the scope was a piece of shit. Bucky just shrugged. He had never used anything else. And they were still working with their fancy equipment, but even that didn’t help them much.

After a few rounds, they were better shots than the beginners Bucky could still remember from his own training, but they were barely decent and nowhere near the performance Bucky had just delivered. It took another few rounds before they were finally giving up.

“I have to say, Barnes, I have no idea how you did that. I’m impressed.” The others agreed, wholeheartedly.

“Thanks.”

“Wanna see if you can measure up when we are not handy capped?” Oh, now that was getting interesting.

They spent at least another hour competing against each other, Bucky with his rifle and the others with their high-tech ones. It was fun. A lot.

Until he remembered that someone was being side-lined in all of this.

Tony was still sitting on the chair behind them. He had his tablet in hand and was occasionally mumbling something to no one in particular.

“Will you try, too?” Bucky couldn’t help but be curious how Tony would do. He had never seen him handle a gun before, but he was well aware of his history. There was a very good chance that he had designed something similar to the rifles they had just used.

“What me?” He had obviously not thought he would get roped into this. “I’m not a sniper. I’m not even a soldier.” Bucky felt his eyes narrow. This sounded suspiciously like a cop-out.

“What was that, earlier? Give you anything at all, and if it’s reasonably constructed, you’ll know how to use it? I would say these are reasonably constructed, what about you guys?”

He didn’t need to turn around to know that the other four were nodding and Rhodes, who had been standing off to the side, on the phone for the last half hour, made a rude gesture in Tony’s direction. That finally made him get out of the chair.

Tony lay down on the ground in what was sure to be a multi thousand-dollar suit without blinking an eye. He took a little longer to arrange himself, so that he could comfortably support the rifle, then he stilled.

Everyone else directed their binoculars to the targets, once again more curious to watch the bullet hit (or miss) than to participate, but Bucky kept his eyes on Tony. The way that he held himself completely still was a weird contrast to his usual twitchy behaviour. It was kind of fascinating, to see someone else go into this absolute kind of hyper focus. Tony had told him that they saw the world a little similarly, but he hadn’t been sure. Tony Stark was a whole other level of intelligent than a simple brute like him, but seeing this. Maybe he hadn’t been so far off after all.

The man took his time. He carefully found the right place for his hands, then adjusted the angle at which he was staring through the scope, millimetre by millimetre. Then everything went so fast, Bucky almost missed it.

Having found the right angle, he pulled the trigger within seconds, between heartbeats, Bucky would bet. Finally, Bucky lifted the binoculars to his eyes and searched for the right target.

It was a good shot. Not anything near his own, but not any different from the trained soldiers right next to them. He had half a mind to applaud it, but the rest of them had already gone over to trash-talking each other, goading each other to try competing against the billionaire now.

“You’re a show-off, Tony.” That was Rhodes, clapping his friend on the back with a smile, despite the accusing tone.

“Yeah, well. We already learned how I react to people questioning my shooting skills, didn’t we?” Bucky arched his eyebrow at him. He really wanted to know that story. Who would be enough of an idiot to assume that a former weapons designer wasn’t capable of shooting?

Tony grinned. “Just ask Steve sometimes why he doesn’t badger me about security concerns like he does with everyone else.” Oh, God. Of course it was Stevie. Because that idiot had never been able to resist a situation that would see him mercilessly mocked by Bucky. This was going to get good.

* * *

It had taken a while to make their goodbyes, collect their things and make their way back to the car. Once they were inside, though, Tony drove easily as fast, if not faster, than he had on the way there. Bucky decided to keep quiet during the drive, partially so he wouldn’t distract the maniac, partially because- well, he wasn’t sure what he could say.

Tony didn’t seem to mind, letting the top down – of course it was a cabriolet – and dialling up the music as loud as possible, belting along to lyrics that Bucky had never heard before.

It took the whole way for him to collect his thoughts, but when they pulled into the garage of the tower, he had finally decided to just go with honesty.

“Thank you. So much.” Tony looked over. He almost looked curious, so Bucky added, just in case, “For the rifle. And today. I don’t remember the last time I had so much fun.” Or the last time anyone had done something this nice for him, but he didn’t need to unnecessarily drag down the mood.

“Is there anything I can do to repay you?” Tony squinted at him a little.

“You were not surprised that I could shoot.” He had only a vague sense of where this was going, so he decided to indulge Tony, until he was sure.

“I’m familiar with your history. From there it was just the next logical step to assume that you knew what you were doing.”

“So, then you’re going to give Steve a hard time for not realising that I didn’t need shooting lessons?” Bingo.

“I won’t let him live it down for a while, yet.” Tony snickered. Honest to God snickered.

“Then you should probably know that Nat was his partner in stupidity, in that particular case.”

“She was not!” He couldn’t stop himself; it was just too absurd a concept.

“I have it on video, if you require proof.”

“Yeah, that’d be good.” If it were true, it wasn’t only Steve who could look forward to a hard time. He had trained Nat, for a little while. He barely remembered it, but it was insulting to think she had missed such a glaringly obvious thing.

That was when it clicked.

“So, I give them a bit of a hard time, take your revenge for you, and then we’re quit?”

“We’re quit right now. You don’t need to repay me. But if you were to insist- let’s just say just because I know how to shoot, doesn’t mean I want to see how well I hold up against the Black Widow. I like your chances a lot better.”

“I agree.” Bucky took a moment to scan over Tony. He was still grinning. Obviously he didn’t really want revenge of any serious sort. Just to make sure they didn’t underestimate him again too soon.

“Get me the video from that day and I’ll do it.” It wasn’t even to verify what had happened. He believed Tony. He just desperately wanted to see their faces when they had realised their mistake.

“Deal.”

Only an hour later, his phone pinged with a new email alert. Attached was the promised video data.

The next morning, Steve and Natasha woke up not yet knowing that they would soon curse whoever had told Bucky about the whole thing.

**Author's Note:**

> Bucky just really didn't want to talk, so he mostly communicates through his eyebrows in this one.
> 
> For context:  
> A click is a kilometre.  
> The longest recorded sniper shot that I could find was a little over 3,5 km, and that was in this century. The third longest was during the vietnam war with just a little under 2,5 km, so you'll understand why they were a little flabbergasted to hear that Bucky regularly shot people at a distance of 3 km in world war 2.


End file.
